The Other Mother
by Banana Kisses
Summary: Winter had discovered the little door not long after she was moved to her new rooms. No one else can see what's through it; when they look, they see nothing but bricks. But to Winter, it opens into the Other World, where her father is still alive, where Jacin confesses his love for her, where she has dear friends, and where Levana is her most caring Mother. (Based on Coraline.)
1. Chapter 1

**Along with this new fic, I'll soon be posting a TLC/Steven Universe crossover story. I was rewatching Coraline the other day, and I thought that it would be interesting to write Winter in Coraline's place. This will be more inspired by the movie than the book. I hope you enjoy!**

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Winter had discovered the little door not long after she was moved to her new rooms.

In a way, she was grateful for this change of home; now, a whole palace wing away from the queen, she allowed herself to feel a little more secure. A little more like Winter. Her left cheek was still swollen and sore, and according to Jacin, the wounds would scar and she would be forever blemished. Winter tried not to mind. After all, she couldn't ever see herself. Once the pain was gone, she could forget.

That little door, hidden in the corner of her own little parlour, came up just a bit above her knees. She would spend afternoons staring; it sat behind the flowered wallpaper that had been plastered there years ago. The ridges, hinges and keyhole stuck out quite well. There was no handle.

"Do you know if there's a key to the little door?" Winter asked her governess.

The governess, who held obvious disdain for the young princess, snorted. "If there is, it has been discarded long ago."

"Why?"

"Your Highness, I do not know why the key would be discarded." Her lips thinned into a sneer. "Nor do I know why a princess would care about little doors. It's probably just storage."

Winter would've asked what was being stored there if the governess hadn't had such a look of scorn painted on her face. She was starting to find that such a look was unbecoming of nearly everyone. Instead, she decided to interrogate her ladies' maid.

"I'm afraid that I wouldn't know of a key for such a little door," was her answer.

"Please, Thaïs! You have all the keys to this part of the palace. There has to be something," Winter sighed. "I really want to see what's in there."

"Your Highness..."

Winter pouted her lip, knowing that it worked like a charm. Lately, she had been excessively bored, and all she had on her mind was that little door. Maybe it was full of cool old trinkets. Or maybe it was a passage to Earth, far away from court and her stepmother. Perhaps, even, a doorway to heaven, where her parents would be waiting for her.

"Here," said Thaïs, dumping a drawer-full of keys on the carpet. Winter crouched down and analyzed the pile. "These are all the spares and unused junk. Once you're done trying them, let me know so I can clean up this mess," her voice lowered, "and before I can get in trouble."

"Of course, of course." Winter smiled, rummaging through the keys, of all different shapes, sizes and colours. She was left alone to do her tests; first, she took one key and tore through the wallpaper around the door. Next, she tried every one of them in the keyhole, but to her despair, none fit. They were all too big, too modern—the keyhole seemed to accommodate an old toothed key, much like those in fairytales. She searched again through the pile until she landed on some black, tarnished thing, carved of regolith into the shape of a button. It seemed like it would do the trick.

She let out a laugh as it fit perfectly into the keyhole. The lock clicked as she turned the button key, and the door was pulled open with a loud creaking sound. Dust and loose stone chips dropped from above. Suddenly, Winter's spirits fell—for behind that door, there was nothing but a wall of bricks _._

"That's _it_?!" Winter cried, her arms flopping at her sides. She frowned. Begrudgingly, she took out the button key. She slipped it in her pocket. "I'm done!" The princess shouted.

Thaïs hummed as she made her way back into the room. "Did you get it open, Your Highness?"

"There was nothing but bricks," Winter huffed. She pushed the little door shut.

"You know, this used to be a much bigger apartment," the maid said, tossing the plethora of keys back into her loose drawer. "Belonged to a long-ago queen. When the royal family moved to the newer side of the palace, they divided this wing up into much smaller rooms. I'm guessing that door led to a playroom, way back when."

Winter tried not to get upset at the thought of having been thrown away to an abandoned part of the palace. Ever since Levana's tantrum, it was clear that the queen had meant to distance herself from Winter, but she couldn't help but think that making her move was really all that necessary.

Behind her, she could hear Thaïs' rustling as she struggled to lift that heavy drawer. After a moment, when the maid was in the doorway, she let out a greeting to someone out in the hallway. "Your Highness! You have company!"

Winter stood and smoothed out her rumpled skirt, hoping that it was Jacin, although she should've known better; he was away with his parents to visit some family in a labouring sector. Instead, waiting at her door, with a strange package in his hand, was Alasdair Dunlin. He had a big old grin on his charmless face.

"Milord," Winter curtsied, hoping that he had no intention of staying for long. "To what do I owe you the pleasure?"

He looked up to the ceiling, laughing. "Don't worry, Princess. I don't mean to bother you." He held up the wrapped bundle. "I found this in my mother's chest the other day; I thought you might want it."

Winter narrowed her eyes—she hadn't forgotten how he had manipulated her at that last gala. She made sure to scribble his name down on her _untrustworthy for life_ list. "I don't want it. Whatever it is, take it back," she replied.

"But I'm telling you, you'll like it."

"No thank you." She closed the door in his face—to hell with pleasing the court! He was annoying and couldn't take no for an answer. As a princess, she had the right to be left alone.

Alasdair knocked once, twice, and every time, she ignored him. Finally, when she was sure he wouldn't knock again, she opened the door a crack and peered out into the hall. He was nowhere to be found; only the package was left on her doorstep, with a little note taped to the front.

 _Your Highness,_

 _Like I said, I found this in Mother's junk chest the other day. Remind you of anyone?_

 _Alasdair_

Winter let out a groan and took it the package back into her room. Despite her annoyance, she tore open the crumpled tissue, to reveal the strangest of things—a small doll, soft as cotton, made in her image. Dark skin, curly black hair made from wool, her favourite lilac dress, two button eyes that gleamed in the light, and three tiny scars finely applied with red paint.

Her mouth bobbed open. "A...a little me?"

It was eerie. Terribly eerie. But as quickly as they came, the shivers down her spine faded, and she found herself angry. Was this that little slime's idea of a joke? She toyed with the idea of telling Levana that Alasdair had made a crude mockery of the princess, but she knew that the queen would just brush her off. Or worse, tell her to be flattered.

She plunked the doll down on a chair. She then came to stand before it, her hands on her hips, as if she were interrogating it.

"Wherever you came from," she barked, "there can only be one Winter. You get that?"

The doll didn't say anything, much to Winter's relief. She didn't think that she could handle a talking doll. She didn't want to believe that she was developing psychosis, but the visions were growing more and more frequent. Come to think of it, maybe she had just imagined the past ten minutes. Alasdair had never come to her door. This doll didn't exist. She was simply mad.

Winter shuddered. This continued all the way until dinner; even Levana noticed her excessive nerves. Peering down at her plate, she tried in vain to avoid the queen's gaze. She had insisted, to the servants' confusion, to have the little doll seated beside her on a high chair. The whole time, Levana had been eyeing it with faint repulsion. "Who gave that to you?"

Winter, in turn, looked at the doll's shiny button eyes. They were black as tar. "Alasdair Dunlin gave it to me. I think he was trying to play a prank. I didn't find it funny."

Levana lip's pressed into a thin line, and she took another bite of her food. "You're much too old for dolls," she commented.

"It isn't a doll, Stepmother," Winter replied. "It's Alasdair's prank. That I didn't find funny."

The queen sighed.

Looking down again, Winter wrinkled her nose. The smell of chard certainly wasn't helping her unease; she felt sick just from the smell. "Why must we always eat this?" Winter dared to ask. She made a face and set her fork precariously over the horrid green vegetable.

Levana raised an eyebrow. "Why are you complaining about what I have fed to you?"

"Stepmother, you know that I despise chard."

"It's good for your health," Levana replied. She took the last bite of her own meal with all her typical grace.

"We _always_ have chard. I don't want it," Winter said, pushing her plate away. "It looks like _slime_."

"It's slime or bedtime, _Darling_ ," Levana hissed, obviously irritated.

Winter looked over to the doll. "Do you think they're trying to poison me?" Slyly, she slipped a hand beneath the doll's chin and made it nod its' head in agreement. "Why can't they make the things I like?" Winter huffed.

With this, the queen's patience snapped. "Around here, Winter, the chef cooks, the maids clean, and _you_ ," she pointed her fork towards the princess, "stay out of the way. As for now, you can stay out of _my_ way."

Winter blinked.

" _Shoo_ ," Levana whispered, her lips curled into a deadly smile.

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	2. Chapter 2

Winter kept on dreaming of mice. Magic circus mice that played a delightful fanfare and jumped around on little striped balls. They had long, sleek tails and cute little cheeks, with whiskers that twitched whenever they blew a tune. All of them, in the dozens, had buttons for eyes.

Every morning, she'd wake up to the doll's shiny pitch buttons. The doll never moved, but Winter couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. During the day, as she would make her way down the halls, aristocrats gawked at the toy that rested upon her shoulders. The doll stared at them intently, and Winter imagined that it was plotting to kill them all.

She couldn't say for sure that she would've agreed with the doll's prerogative, but of course, it didn't matter anyway. The doll wasn't alive. Winter was just mad. Her tutors, her stepmother, Jacin, all reminded her that she was getting more and more off her rocker with each passing day. It was beginning to annoy her greatly; she had developed a twitch under her eye, on the side where Levana had forced the knife into her flesh, and it always ached and throbbed afterwards.

A week after Alasdair had given her the doll, she decided to ask the queen about the little door. Surely Levana must've known something. In the queen's study, it was well lit and organized, as always. Levana was working, as always. Winter set herself down on a chair.

"My Queen," she greeted.

Levana, seated at her marble desk, tapped away on her netscreen; she was typically ignoring her.

"Good afternoon, Stepmother," Winter pressed on.

"I'm really, really busy," Levana snapped.

Winter looked up at the ceiling. The doll sat on her lap, and she gently ran her fingers through its yarn hair. "Stepmother, do you know where the little door leads to?"

Levana glared at the princess. "What little door?"

"In my parlour. Thaïs told me that it used to be a much bigger apartment."

Levana tapped her fingers against the desk. "It was."

"Why is it all bricked up? And why is it so small?"

Levana rubbed her forehead. "Winter, I don't have time for you right now." She put down her reports. "And you still have lots of assignments to do; Master Gertman has been informing me of your lack of effort this term."

Winter's cheek throbbed again. She rubbed at it. "My face hurts," she whined.

"Stop picking at it."

"Do you think that you could perhaps..." Winter mused, "have someone remove those bricks?"

"Absolutely not."

"Please?"

"No."

Winter closed her eyes. "Step-mother," she whined, clutching the doll to her chest. "I'm so very bored."

Levana let out a strangled sigh, her fingers crimping up her loose bangs. "Will you stop pestering me if I do this for you?"

Winter smiled and nodded her head with much enthusiasm. Levana let out a groan of defeat and stood. Together, and with the thaumaturge that Levana had summoned at the last minute, they made their way across the palace to where the little door resided.

Levana crossed her arms over her chest. Her heels tapped bluntly against the carpet of Winter's parlour. "Do you have the key?"

Winter nodded and produced the button key. She quickly unlocked the door. The thaumaturge, dressed in black, eyed it with scrutiny; but she said nothing more and got to work. Winter waited with bated breath as the thaumaturge got down on her knees, with a drill in hand, and went away at the bricks. Even more dust and debris flew in all directions, but Winter paid it no heed.

A cry of anger left the princess once the thaumaturge backed away from the door; behind those measly bricks hid a wall of solid regolith, dusty and black to the touch. "Another wall?! I don't...I don't get it!" Winter cried. She let the doll fall to the floor.

"I suppose that someone had this made for decoration," the thaumaturge said matter-of-factly.

"But—"

That was when Levana had lost the last of her nerve. She pointed a finger to Winter's chest. "We had a deal! Now, zip it!" She took a deep breath. "Hero, you're dismissed."

The thaumaturge bowed and took her leave. Winter wiped her teary eyes and closed the door. The key was held tight in her grip. The thought of spending yet another day in stiff boredom, alone, made the tears continue to pool down Winter's face. She turned cautiously, and was relieved to find that Levana had gone back to work.

"Well, Little Me," said Winter, scooping up the doll in a crooked arm. "It's just us for now."

She decided to venture and explore, for the thousandth time in her short life, the small nooks and crannies of the palace. Many nobles lounged about in the salons, the courtyard, the gardens. Thaumaturges came to and fro from the underground lava tubes that lead beneath Winter's feet. The queen's favourite pets, such as Aimery and Sybil, were nowhere to be found. She peered into the library, only to find Master Gertman and a couple of his other students milling about the old, dusty books. She made sure to scurry away from there in a hurry.

The menagerie was her next stop. Inside, she admired the white birds, white foxes, white kittens, white ducklings, swans, snakes; she quickly grew bored of the endless sea of albino animals genetically engineered by the royal scientists. She wished there was some colour. Maybe a red fox, or a black cat—

She stopped dead in her tracks. In the wolf enclosure, among the perfect arctic pups, was a scrawny little grey one. She narrowed her eyes. The animal was prowling about the cage in search of food, or perhaps a fight with the other wolves. Winter perched the doll atop her shoulder. "That little one is strange," she whispered. "Do you know why he's here?"

Loneliness settled heavily on Winter's shoulders. A doll was no replacement for company.

"I see that you like it," said Alasdair.

Winter jumped out and let out a cry of shock. He had sneaked up behind her without so much as a sound. Her heart pounding, she quickly held the doll behind her back. "What do you want, Weirdo?"

Alasdair held his hands up defensively. "Princess, please. You don't just go calling people that."

"You don't go sneaking up on others, then!" Winter cried. She brought out the doll and waved it in front of Alasdair's loathsome face. "You don't go making dolls of people, either! Do you think you're funny?!"

"As I've said before," he huffed, "I found it in my mother's chest."

Winter snorted. "Liar."

"I think it might've been her sister's," Alasdair continued. "That might be why she didn't put it in the playroom..."

"I don't care where you found it, because you're a liar. You had this made by someone. If you think that this is gonna make me like you—"

"What makes you think that I like you?"

"You're a classic creep," Winter spat. At that point, she was so frustrated that she didn't care about what spilled out of her mouth. If she would regret it later, so be it. "It's really obvious. Speaking of which," she jabbed a finger at him, "you manipulate me like that again, and I'll make you dance like the clown you are until you die from exhaustion."

Alasdair scoffed. "You don't mean that. And...I apologize for my untoward behaviour. I just wanted to try out something. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear." He rolled his eyes. "It's what my father expects me to do."

"Likely story."

"Girls are not my type."

Winter rubbed her forehead, suddenly tired. She could always hear a tinkling little tune in her ears; she suspected it remained from a leftover hallucination sometime ago. It was incessantly annoying. "What else do you want?"

Alasdair's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah! I wanted you to take pictures of this, please," he said, picking up a clear box. Inside was the biggest, ugliest slug Winter had ever seen. She let out a gasp. "I would like you to take them with me."

Winter made a face as he put his port in her hand. It was already open on the camera function. "I'm not taking a picture with that thing."

"Not you. Me and Slugzilla."

Alasdair was quick to let the slimy creature out of the box. He posed with it near, far, and even pretended to have it come out of his nose. Despite herself, Winter couldn't help but laugh slightly at how ridiculous he looked. After the pictures were taken, Alasdair plopped the poor slug back in the box and had a servant put it back where all the other gross insects were kept. It must've belonged to him, but why anyone would willingly own a pet slug, Winter didn't know.

"Pretty cute, huh?"

Winter made another face. "Slugzilla is the embodiment of beauty." She coughed. "Do you have any other pets here?"

"Scoundrel," Alasdair replied, nodding in the direction of the wolf enclosure. "She's mine."

"The little grey one's yours?"

"Yeah. No one else wanted her, so I did. They were gonna put her down."

Winter walked towards the wolves. They were laying around everywhere, nice and lazy. The scruffy one sat on a rock in the center of it all. She stood at attention, as if she were listening out for something.

"Scoundrel's always on edge," Alasdair yawned. "My sister says she's senile."

"I don't like your sister," Winter declared. Anabel Dunlin was very cruel, especially to animals. Whenever Anabel was in the menagerie, Winter always remained on guard. She didn't want to find all her pets hurt or dead.

"She doesn't like you either. But then again, she doesn't like much at all." Alasdair shrugged.

Winter held the doll close. "If this was your aunt's, why does it look like me?" She asked, apprehensive.

"I wouldn't know. My mother refuses to talk about her."

"I didn't know you even had an aunt."

Alasdair pulled her in closer. Winter was instantly nervous, but she stayed quiet. "My mother had a twin sister once," he whispered. "When the two were little, her sister went missing very suddenly. One day she was there, and then, they never saw her again. I'm pretty sure that doll was hers; why else would my mother keep it?"

"But why does it look like me?!"

"Couldn't tell you. But I just found it funny, and thought that you might like it." He turned his head and analyzed the doll. "It's pretty creepy, if you think about it. Those eyes," he laughed, "it's like they look into your soul or something."

Winter squirmed. "Thank you so much for your gift," she retorted. "I do believe that your mother might want it back, though."

"She won't even notice it's gone."

Winter opened her mouth to say something else, but they were suddenly caught off guard by a woman's shouts. "ALASDAIR! It's time to go!"

The noble boy let out a groan. "Welp, gotta go. The Mom is through here." He nodded. "Thanks for those pictures."

Winter's lips tightened. She didn't like him, one little bit. "No problem," she muttered.

"And hey, if you maybe wanna hang out sometime..." he started.

Winter placed the doll back on her shoulder. Lady Dunlin called out again for her son. "I think it's time for you to leave, Alasdair."

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Alasdair called out over his shoulder. He went off in a trot, and Winter was relieved that she was finally freed from his presence.

Her nose crinkled. "He talks too much," she decided.


	3. Chapter 3

Winter was woken up that night by the soft patter of tiny feet. At first, she tried to ignore them, but their scurrying soon wore her down, and she let out a whimper. That little tune was playing again; so loud, nearly too loud to be in her head. She sat up and brushed the hair back from her face...and stopped. Her entire body froze.

On the floor, there were four little mice shuffling about, picking at the sides of her bed, probably in search of food. Winter managed to keep herself from screaming, but her heart still beat furiously in her chest. The creatures, instead of scampering, jumped about like grasshoppers, squeaking. Her fingers trembling from shock, Winter inched closer to the edge of her bed, careful not to put her feet on the ground.

Not two seconds after she did so, the mice turned to look at her all at once. She let out a squeak of her own. The mice broke out in a run, tripping over each other to escape the princess' gaze. Winter instantly tore the covers away and began to chase the rodents, a new determination in her eyes. The ditty still played in the back of her mind, an unending annoyance. She followed them into the parlour, through the faint glow of the lamps, until they slipped in behind the little door, that was still open a crack.

Winter managed a little laugh. "You're trapped now, Mousies," she crooned. The tune was even louder now. It seemed like it was coming from behind that door...Winter grit her teeth and opened it up completely. A horrible groaning sound came from the hinges. There, she knew, she would find the mice trapped against the broken bricks and regolith wall. She braced herself for when they would try to run again.

Except they didn't. She didn't feel their little feet tearing through her skin in their haste to get away. Instead, she felt a sort of pleasant breeze wafting around her, with the smell of something sweet. The song suddenly stopped, and there was nothing but dead silence in its wake. Winter let out a gasp as she opened her eyes and took in the sight of the glowing tunnel that lay just beyond the doorway. It seemed to be made from some sort of fabric but held tight against Winter's weight. She put a hand on it, terrified, but at the same time, filled with wonder and excitement. She stayed there for a moment, on her knees, waiting for when she would wake up from her dream and there would once again be only a wall behind that little door.

The tunnel continued to glow. Smiling, Winter took a deep breath and slipped in through the threshold. The tunnel's fabric was soft against her knees, covered by the long skirt of her nightgown. The entire journey was a nerve-wracking one; at last, she was going on an adventure. She was leaving through her secret exit. Winter couldn't help but feel happy, even through the fear.

 _Breathe in, breathe out._

She could see the end of the passage, where an identical small door stood cracked open, just like the one in her room. She climbed up through it, beyond excited, her mind flooded with thoughts of what this new place looked like. Maybe it was an ocean paradise, with mermaids. Maybe it was a cozy little house. Maybe...

It was just her parlour.

She found herself sitting on the big pink rug, in the octagonal room, with the little door cracked open behind her. "Oh, come on!" Winter cried, throwing her hands in the air.

A cry of despair escaped her and she crumpled to the ground. She was just hallucinating now. Perhaps she should go back to bed and forget about the mice and the door and the doll...the doll that she had left behind. She only then noticed that her little companion hadn't tagged along. But her thoughts lingered on that for only a moment; she quickly noticed one of the mice standing by the door to her bedroom. All thoughts of hallucinations were forgotten. A determined smile on her face, she rose to her feet and dashed after the small animal with a great ferocity in her blood. That stupid mouse would stop bothering her now—

The mouse quickly turned around and darted out a different door, one that leads to the hallway. Winter didn't even think of the guards that could've been standing right before her, ready to grab her at any moment. She continued to run. She would not be swayed from her objective.

She found the hallway to be dark and deserted. Her heart hammering, she searched in vain for the mouse, but there no longer any trace of the little thing. Winter crossed her arms over her chest, her unhappiness settling like a rock in her gut.

Suddenly, there was humming. It was the same tune that had plagued her for the last insufferable while, but not made by the squeaks of rodents. No, it was the gentle hum of a woman. Sweet and tender, it made the chill in Winter's bones fade away. She wiped at her angry tears and tiptoed further down the hall—as she did so, some soft lights came on, and she noticed something distressing. The hallway was identical to the one in the palace, but it also wasn't. The colours seemed brighter. The flowers seemed to be more in bloom. The gold and silver and diamonds sparkled in a way that they never did back home.

The woman's song was quite loud now, and Winter came to a stop in front of the door it was coming from. She recognized this place: it was the entrance to her stepmother's private study. Winter had never been inside that room—she knew better than to even ask. Gulping, she gently laid a flat palm against the carved regolith door. The humming didn't stop. It was enticing, as if Winter were being beckoned to enter.

She knocked.

The singing stopped. After a moment, the voice replied, "Come in!"

Winter clutched the handle tightly and pulled the door open. The room inside was well light and cheerful; beautiful paintings of space lined the walls, and the windows were wide open, providing a gorgeous view of the sparkling city below the palace. The scent of roses and sweetness wafted through the air. In the fireplace, a pleasant little flame burned along peacefully...and beside this fire sat the woman, reading a book. Her head was lowered, although Winter couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched.

Winter took a step forward and cleared her throat. "Stepmother?"

The woman looked up, a pretty smile on her face. As she stood, Winter could see that she wore the exact same gown that she distinctly remembered seeing on Levana that particular day; red, lacy, with a hem that seemed to float on the floor. She didn't look anything like Levana, though—her skin was of a lovely tanned hue, her hair a rich brown that fell to her hips without so much as a curl. She was shorter and thinner, much thinner than the Levana she knew. She kind of looked like a child.

But that was not the weird part.

For this woman had buttons instead of eyes. Big, black, shiny buttons, that seemed to have been sewn directly into her skin, onto her face. Just like the ones on the doll.

Horrified, Winter put a hand over her mouth.

"Good evening, Winter," the woman said sweetly. "You're just in time for supper, the cook tells me."

Winter jutted a finger toward her. " _You're_ not Levana," she accused. "My stepmother doesn't have...buh... _buh_ —"

"—buh-buttons?" The woman chuckled. "Do you like them? I'm the _other_ Levana, silly." She put a hand to her chest.

Winter puckered her lips. "I don't believe you."

"You don't? Well, that's quite a shame. But whether you believe it or not, supper is still ready. It'll get cold if we make it wait for us." The Other Levana smiled. "Why don't you pass that message along to your Other Father, dear?"

When Winter didn't move, the Other Levana let out a sigh. "Go on! He should be in his rooms. You know where those are, don't you?"

"In the guard's wing?"

A sweet laugh. "Of course not! They're next to mine," said the Other Levana.

Winter's flesh was coated in goosebumps. "Yes...of course. I'll be going now." She couldn't help the tears that pricked at the back of her eyes as she made her retreat. She could feel the Other Levana's button eyes fixed to her back. Never had she felt more anxious, even under her stepmother's melting glare.

The study was not far from the royal apartments; Winter barely escaped the woman's stare by her venture. The door to the Other Father's room was closed, like every other door in every hallway in this fake palace. Winter stood, gathered her courage and pushed it open.

She was greeted with the joyous smile of Evret Hayle, who sat, comfortably, on a cushioned bench. In front of him, there was an elegant grand piano. " _He-_ llo, Winter!"

All of Winter's blood rushed to her toes. He was there, in the flesh. Her beloved father. She didn't even mind the eerie smile or the buttons sewn into his face. She let out a great sob and flung herself into his arms. " _Papa_..." she wailed, her tears surely staining his expensive-looking sweater.

"Woah, kiddo...you're going to dry up if you keep on crying like that."

Winter pulled away and attempted, in vain, to staunch the flow of her tears. "I've missed you, Papa...I've missed you so much..."

"I've missed you too, kiddo. It wasn't the same here without you."

She sniffed. Now, the surprise having dulled, she took a look around the room. It was nothing like the room her father had lived in; instead of impersonal, it was colourful, fancy, lively...

It was wrong.

She cocked her head to the side. "Since when do you play the piano?"

The Other Evret let out a chuckle. "Oh, I don't. Why bother, when it's the piano that plays me?"

He pushed something that Winter couldn't see, and suddenly, a couple of robotic hands burst forth from the lid of the piano. They slipped onto his own like they were gloves. Winter jumped back and let out a gasp.

"You wanna hear my new song?"

Winter pursed her lips, but smiled nonetheless. "Okay."

The hands jumped down on the keyboard and began to dance along the ivory keys. The instrument seemed to come to life. Evret moved from side to side, his arms propelled by the robot. All while he sang loudly, perfectly in tune.

 _Makin' up a song about you, Winter,_

 _You're a peach, you're a doll, you're my sweet daughter_

 _You're as cute as a button in the eyes of anyone who ever laid their eyes on you, Winter!_

 _When you come around exploring Mom and I will never ever make it boring_

 _Our eyes will be on you, Winter!_

The Other Evret finished, smiled, and rested his chin on one hand. Winter could tell that he was expecting a reaction, but she could only manage a glazed look. She gulped. "Step-...uh... _she_ said to tell you that supper's ready."

"Ah, yes. Who's starving, raise your hands!" He laughed as the piano hands flew up; this lifted him somewhat off his seat.

Winter let out a giggle. It was sort of funny, she thought. Once she got past the surrealness of the scenario.

The Other Evret stood gallantly, a goofy smile on his face. "Shall we go?"

Winter's stomach suddenly rumbled—she had forgone a meal again that night. There was no way she was swallowing that chard.

"Yes," she decided. "It's off to supper now."

* * *

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 **Banana Kisses~**


	4. Chapter 4

The Other Evret lead the way to the dining hall. Staring at the back of his head, Winter noticed a neat row of seams running down the nape of his neck.

"Papa, why do you have stitches on your neck?"

He stopped and turned to her. "I do? I've never noticed that…"

"It looks like someone sliced your skin and sewed it back together again."

"I guess the details have been stolen from me, because I don't remember getting cut up."

Winter pursed her lips. "You don't remember getting buttons stitched over your eyes?"

"I don't," said the Other Evret, "because I've always had button eyes. Those glass beads of yours are things I've never seen before. They're very pretty."

She lightly touched her eyes, the brown and silver orbs she had taken from her mother.

Was this man really Evret Hayle? He had the face, but the way he was dressed, the way he walked through the palace as if it belonged to him...he acted more like a king than anything.

Above all, though, how could her father have never seen human eyes before? His had been so _beautiful_. "Everyone has eyes, where I come from," she said.

"That must be really cool."

Winter glanced around the hallway. It was deserted aside from herself and the Other Evret. The emptiness of it was starting to make her anxious. "Hey, why are there no guards around here?"

"Why would we need guards around here? There's no danger."

"No one wanting to steal things? No one wanting to kill the queen?"

The Other Evret smiled whimsically. "Everyone loves my Sweetheart. Why would anybody want to attack such a wonderful queen?"

 _That_ wasn't something that Winter thought she'd ever hear. "Do you love her?"

"She's my soulmate. The love of my life."

These words made her shudder. Before she had the chance to come up with a reply, they arrived at the dining hall. The Other Evret held the door open for her, ever the gentleman. Winter gazed at the grandiose room; it was similar to the hall back home, but like everything else in the mock palace, it gave off this sense of jubilant life that warmed Winter's body.

"Good evening, Sweetheart!"

The Other Levana stood by the window. She turned her head to look at the Other Evret and a joyous smile spread across her face. They rushed to each other and embraced into a passionate kiss. When they broke apart, she beckoned Winter forward. "Did you like your surprise, Darling?"

Winter held her hands behind her back, hiding her astonishment. "Yes," she mumbled.

"You must be hungry...that other Levana tried to feed you chard again, didn't she?"

"You mean the real Levana?"

"The _mean_ one," the Other Levana laughed.

Winter frowned. "Wait...how do you know that we had chard for dinner?"

"Hush, that's just what mothers do. We watch and we know." The Other Levana gestured to the table. "Shall we sit? We're just waiting on one more person, and she should be along soon."

Button eyes glinted in the chandeliers' light. Winter was beginning to get used to it, now that the shock had worn off. The more she looked at the buttons, the more she found them to be rather pretty.

The door suddenly opened. Winter heard the soft patter of flats echo against the marble floor. A girl swept past her, dressed in a silver gown.

"I apologize for my tardiness, Auntie," said the girl.

"That's fine," the Other Levana replied. She waved her hand carelessly. "Come and sit, so that we might share a feast with our guest."

Winter watched closely as the girl sat down beside the Other Levana. The newcomer brushed her long hair back behind her shoulders. She smiled at the queen. Her every move was graceful, very princess-like. From the warm-toned skin to the button eyes, she held an uncanny resemblance to the Other Levana.

Even more striking than that, though, was the similarities this girl shared with another from Winter's past.

"...Selene? Is that you?"

The girl's head whipped around. Winter was certain that she was staring at her, although it really was hard to tell with those _buttons_. "Do I know you?"

"She's our guest, Selene. Treat her nicely," the Other Levana chastised.

"Yes, you do...we used to play together. Don't you remember?"

The girl looked to her aunt for some kind of instruction. The queen nodded. "Hmm...that might be right," the Other Levana murmured. "You were close to the other Selene, once."

The Selene from Winter's own world. So that meant that _she_ was the Other Selene. Suddenly, Winter felt an oppressive sadness flood her heart; sitting here, like this, surrounded by her family...it was all she had ever wanted. If fate hadn't been so cruel, she could have had her father and Selene alive and with back home.

She held back a sob and instinctively went to pick at her scars. "Yeah, until she burned. Until she became nothing but ashes."

"Hey, cheer up. I'm not ashes. We can be friends, you and I."

At that moment, the kitchen doors burst open and servants came waltzing out into the dining hall, wearing glittering uniforms and holding trays full of delicious-smelling food. They too had button eyes, as well as smiles frozen to their faces.

"Welcome, Princess Winter!" They sang in unison, placing the food on the table. "Let us know how best to serve you!"

Winter shrank back in her chair. "Uh…"

"Would you like anything to drink, Winter?"

"Some apple cider?"

In an instant, a tall glass of bubbling amber heaven was placed in front of her. The servant closest to the table slipped an apple-shaped straw into the cider. Winter gazed at it in awe for a moment before taking the first sip. It tasted like sour apple petites and fire and _life_.

A giant platter of chicken was set in the middle of the table, and the royals were left to feast. Evret was the first to heap chicken onto his plate. "Now, we all must be grateful for what we have," he said, turning to the Other Levana. "We give our thanks and ask to bless, our mother's golden chicken breast!"

The queen giggled and gave him a little shove. "Oh, you."

Heat rushed to Winter's cheeks. She tried not to let her discomfort show. The scent of the food was making her stomach growl. Eagerly, she filled her plate with chicken and rice and began to eat. "Oh, it's so good…" she sighed.

The Other Selene ate nothing but a bowl of plums. "I guess so," she sniffed.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"You can call me Mother," said the Other Levana. "No need for such propriety amongst family members."

Winter nodded. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mother."

"You're very welcome, Dear. My home is your home."

Winter went to take another bite of chicken, but she noticed that her plate had suddenly vanished from the table. Instead, a big chocolate cake had been placed before her. Frosted flowers appeared to bloom from the top and the words _Welcome Home!_ were written in red icing by an invisible hand.

" _Home_?"

"We've been waiting for you, Winter." The Other Levana took her husband's hand.

"...For me?"

"It wasn't the same here without you, kiddo," said the Other Evret.

Winter stared at the cake, confused. "This is kinda weird," she admitted.

"It does take some getting used to. Most never make it to the other side. You're one of the lucky ones."

"Shame, too, 'cause the side you come from seems really miserable," said the Other Selene.

"It is…" Winter lowered her head. "It's hard to be happy. People do such horrible things to each other. I never know when someone's being honest with me, or if they're just glamouring me to get their way. It's really scary, to be honest."

"There's no glamour here," said the Other Levana, her voice gentle and comforting. "You don't have to worry about that as long as you're with us."

"But I…"

"But?"

Winter took a deep breath. "I just, I'm kind of overwhelmed. I think I need to get to bed."

The queen smiled. "Of course, you must be exhausted. Come, I'll take you to your quarters."

"Oh, I know the way home, I can go by myself—"

"Nonsense!" The queen stood. "Take my hand, Darling."

Winter did as she was told, her flesh still crawling. The Other Levana's hand was soft and warm. The Other Selene walked next to them, her expression one of pure disinterest. Winter wondered if this is what the Selene from her world would've grown up to be like.

"It was nice meeting you," said Winter.

"You as well." The Other Selene didn't even look at her.

Winter no longer felt warm. Her shoulders hunched. In the corner of her vision, she saw the Other Levana kick the Other Selene in the back of her legs.

"OW! I mean, it was really nice. I hope you come back soon, so that we can get to know each other." A forced smile stretched across the Other Selene's face.

"You can go, Selene. Have a good night."

The princess bowed. "Goodnight, Auntie."

With a gentle pat on the back, the Other Levana lead Winter to the doors from which she had entered the fake palace only an hour or so before. They went inside the octagonal room. The little door stood ajar, a pink light spilling from the crack.

Winter pointed a finger to it. "I came from there—"

"Hush. You said that you're tired, so I'm taking you to bed. You needn't worry about that little door."

Winter opened her mouth to protest, but the Other Levana took her by the hand and lead her to the bedroom. Inside, Winter let out a gasp of awe. It was similar to her room at home, but here, everything was alive and vibrant and glowing. Butterflies fluttered against the ceiling. The sheer curtains floated. Dolls and toys walked about on their own, singing and chatting merrily.

"Hey, she's here! It's Winter!"

"Winter! Hello, hello!"

"She's even prettier in person!"

"Do you wanna play with us?"

"Settle down! It's time for bed," said the Other Levana.

Winter laughed. She suddenly felt a tickle on her shoulders; the Other Evret had snuck up behind her. He held a gleaming silver flute in his hands. "Winter, do you want me to play a lullaby?"

"I'd like that," said Winter.

Since she was already in her nightclothes, Winter didn't need to change. She slipped under the luxurious covers, letting out a sigh. It was so comfortable, she felt like could just sink into the soft mattress.

"Goodnight, Winter. I hope we'll see you again soon."

"See you soon," echoed the Other Evret. He began to play his flute. The sweet melodies made Winter feel drowsy. She lowered her head on the pillow and closed her eyes. Even in the dark, she could still see the butterflies dancing through the air.

" _See you soon…"_

* * *

"And the toys were alive! _Alive_ , Stepmother! They were asking me to play, but I was just too tired…"

Levana frowned as she took another sip of her coffee. "Winter, you only dreamed that you ate all that chicken. And weren't you saying that you're way too old for dolls?"

"But these ones were just so cool."

"What is it that you think is triggering these hallucinations? They're getting worse, aren't they?"

Winter's palms grew damp. She fidgeted in her seat. "It wasn't a hallucination, Stepmother. This time it was real. I saw it with my own two eyes. You were there, except it wasn't you, it was the Other Levana. And there was the Other Father, and the Other Selene. Selene was there too."

Levana visibly stiffened. Her coffee cup was set down with such force that the contents sloshed out onto the queen's palm. "That's ridiculous. Selene is gone, as is your father. I don't want you talking about this anymore; you embarrass me enough as it is with your other delusions."

Winter felt the urge to pick at her scars. "As you wish, Stepmother." She was suddenly glad that she hadn't yet mentioned how the Other Levana didn't feel the need to wear a glamour, or how her husband was doting and liked to make sexual banter at the dinner table. She sensed that Levana wouldn't take those thoughts very well.

"You should be channelling all this enthusiasm into your studies," said Levana. "If you were this enthusiastic with your lessons, I'm sure that your gift would be back to its former strength in no time at all."

"There's still something there, Stepmother. I try to use my gift, but it still won't come out. Your shame is my shame, but whatever's holding me back is stronger than I am," Winter lied.

The queen sniffed. "Somehow I can't help but believe that you're just lazy."

Of course, she did. Levana liked to think the worst on the subject of her stepdaughter. Winter knew this damn well. She tried not to let her annoyance show. Looking back, she really shouldn't have told Levana anything about her experiences behind the little door.

At least Jacin appreciated her recollections. He listened eagerly, swept away in the fantasy. "Button eyes? That super freaky."

"It still gives me the willies, but other than that, the place was magical."

"Do you know why there isn't another Winter?" Jacin asked, rocking back in his chair. They were relaxing in the palace library, surrounded by the sound of ticking clocks. It was the only place where they could find any privacy at this time of day.

"No, I don't...I'm gonna ask next time I go. Now that I think about it, it _is_ weird that there isn't another me."

"And is there another Jacin?"

"You know what, I'll ask that too."

"To be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about you going back. It seems like it makes the queen quite angry."

Winter rolled her eyes. Looking at him, she saw in his expression that he was only teasing her. But it seemed like he didn't actually believe her...like she was just telling him stories.

"It's real, Jacin."

"You want to show me?"

She squared her shoulders. "Sure. Come on, the door's in my room."

They made their way to Winter's parlour. She crawled up to the little door, with Jacin watching her intently. She twisted the key, turned the handle, pulled the door open—

And there was just a wall of bricks.

"Really? You opened up for me last night!"

"You know, Winter, sometimes dreams do feel very real."

"I didn't make it up, Jacin!"

"Not saying that you did! But, well, I don't see anything," he shrugged.

She sat down, feeling defeated. "I don't understand...why does it only open up to me?"


End file.
